We can do better than Pac-Man ponchos.

Last weekend I was forced to tag along on a sentimental journey to a luxury mansion with NFL posters on the walls, fireplaces used as storage bins, and a brass spittoon in the foyer. There I ate sugar cookies with flat beer and opened cupboard doors in search of napkins. Unbelievably, I found some, so I laid them out beside the sugar cookie platter. And, I’ll be honest, I felt quite motherly and warm inside for doing so. Sort of like Wendy taking care of the Lost Boys.

A short time later, the cookie platter was moved and the napkins fell to the floor. Where they were promptly stepped on and will likely remain until someone remembers to take the keg back and, at which point, spots the giant soaking wet napkin-wad right next to it.

Just before leaving, in the basement of that luxury mansion, I stumbled upon an archived file marked, “Do not remove. Property of Chi Phi Fraternity.” Which has since been transferred to a file marked, “I’ll get in trouble for stealing this so don’t please don’t post it on your blog.”

Just so you know what you’re seeing here, I’ll explain. The obvious are Pac-Man and Rubik’s Cube Head. But also you’ll see here Pvt. Party Pooper, 1st Class. Along with Random Person In A Sweater Hoodie, as seen in my Wish Book post (here). Which I didn’t really think of as a costume, but, what the heck, I’m going to go ahead and give that an ‘A’ for Effort. Particularly if Random Person In A Sweater Hoodie happened to be concealing Gargantuan Static Head as a scary surprise reveal for later in the evening.

Note the actual costumes. Those are what are troubling to me. Clearly, both were purchased inside a box at a primitive K-Mart and then slapped on (literally — since that’s the only way you can apply polyurethane to skin) five minutes before the party as a last-ditch effort to appear festive.

This is pathetic. And I thought fraternities were made up of creative thinkers . . . or, wait, no . . . recreational drinkers. I always get them confused.

Here I am on my soap box again. Let’s do better. Let’s do right by our children and make Halloween costumes creative once again.

And just so there are no misunderstandings — I’m not talking puns. No, no, please don’t do costume puns! I’m serious. I get a migraine when I see them coming toward me and am inevitably forced into playing word games in my head when I’d much rather be feeling comfortably numb at the food table eating hummus.

And, worse still, please don’t do naughty puns. No, not those! The next time I see a couple go as “Brick Layer” and “Brick” at a costume party, I will smash my skull right into a brick wall to relieve my pounding-headache-on-the-verge-of-an-aneurysm. Or, better yet, right into said Brick. Which, unfortunately for me, will likely be made of pillows. Or cardboard. Or some unidentifiable foam.

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My Stepford Wife was lame. But I take total credit for Edward Scissorhands. The make-up job, however, was a bit disappointing.

You may know, I feel an ongoing responsibility to prove myself to you readers, that I’m worthy of your time spent here with me. (When you could very well be off playing FarmVille instead.) And that’s totally fair. Of course! Even expected!

But now is the time when you have to prove to me your worthiness as my blog readers. Now, I have a sneaking suspicion that my blog readers are ahead of the curve, that you all are the type to come up with some phenomenal outside-the-box costumes, whether just last year or put together by your mother circa 1984.

Tell me about them.

Or, hey, you could even invent a costume idea you wished you would’ve done. I promise I won’t know the difference.

I will warn you though, Patrick (here) has already set the bar high with the self-made costume he mentioned on my post last week (here).

Now, see that comment box at the bottom? Please leave them right there. Or, if you’re feeling shy, submit them via email (see Contact page). I will read them over and then highlight the best one(s) in an upcoming post. Pictures included will be given special consideration, though are also at high risk of being published for our amusement.

My most popular costume ever was going as a porn star, with greased back hair, a medallion that had a picture of myself,an unbuttoned shirt and polyester pants stuffed down to one knee with…yeah, you get it. My wife went as a hooker with the garter belt/mini-skirt. We were young, we lived in LA, but regardless, we are still probably the classiest couple EVER.
Sorry for the visual.
Les

One year my husband and I dressed up as soldiers from the Abu Ghraib prison scandal to attend a costume party. I wore what I thought looked like an army outfit, had rubber gloves on my hands and carried pictures of me and my husband pretending to point to people’s crotches with cigarettes in our mouths. No one knew who we were. Not even when I said “Oh I’m one of the soldiers from Abu Ghraib.”

Oh, wow, that is so far outside-the-box there is no box! The box is now a tiny gray spec the size of an Abu Ghraib guard’s itty-bitty black heart. I love that no one knew who you were, which sums up 3/4 of the costumes I’ve worn.

One year I was planning on going as Patty Hearst. I was explaining to a friend how I would carry a machine gun and wear a Symbionese Liberation Army symbol on my arm band. Her response “Who is Patty Hearst?” told me everything I needed to know.

speaker7 – that’s awesome…but not for society. It does remind me of the time Angie and I went to a party as 2 people from Devo and people guessed we were fire hydrants. Perhaps it’s an easy mistake to make so I’ll clarify: fire hydrants save lives, Devo whips clothes off of women while singing techo pop.